My Pillow Has Fluff
by iPepsi
Summary: Carly intends to slip a confession letter into Sam's gift this year. She has a bit of a struggle picking the perfect present and deciding if she wants to go through with the plan. Her happiness this holiday is in Sam's hands.


AN: I wrote this one-shot for the holiday fanfiction exchange at groovysmoothie on livejournal.

Disclaimer: I don't own the poem used in this one-shot. It comes from a picture frame, and to my knowledge the author is anonymous.

**My Pillow Has Fluff**

It's that time of year again. The only time I shop alone. Spencer used to be my chaperone, but now we split up at the entrance of the mall and agree on when to meet at the food court. Today I promised Spencer to be there at 2 pm on the dot. This wouldn't be a problem, except I still have one person left to shop for and it's fifteen minutes 'til. To top it all off, that one person is Sam, who is not only my best friend, but also my everything.

Sometimes I'm not sure Sam realizes how important she is to me, so I've written her a letter to tell her exactly how I feel. That can't be all I give her though. It needs to be wrapped up with a present, something that will distract her from reading it until she's alone. Will she forgive me for falling in love with her? Most definitely, she has to understand at least a little. Would she forgive me if she found out and had to react with an audience? I wouldn't even forgive myself.

I've wasted ten minutes staring at the same row of jewelry and the food court is on the opposite side of the mall. Time could have been better spent at a place like Build-A-Bra, or anywhere that sells something Sam would actually wear. Not that a necklace was completely out of the question. Perhaps still too tiny of a gift to distract away from the folded paper containing what my soul has poured.

A few dozen zigzags and three escalators later, Spencer is within eyesight and I wave at him from a couple feet away. He raises an eyebrow at the two light shopping bags I'm carrying.

"Did you finish shopping for everyone?"

I nod, lying because I don't want to burden him with waiting for me to figure out what Sam's gift should be.

"Do you know what you want for lunch?"

I peek around despite the fact I've been here many times before and should have the options memorized. As my eyes wander between a pizza place and some taco hut, a light bulb brightens my thoughts. Food. Of course. More specifically meat, the only competition I have for Sam's heart. Dr. Meaty's is off in the far left corner still, so I nudge Spencer to follow me as I pray they have gift cards.

There's a small rack by the register that holds four uniquely designed gift cards, the values to choose from being $10, $25, $50, or $100. I snag a $50 one as an employee walks up to the counter across from us.

"Will that be all?"

I mumble a 'yep' as I reach from my wallet, but Spencer cuts me off, handing two 20's and a 10 to the guy. I look over at my older brother with a puzzled expression. He shrugs as we turn away from Dr. Meaty's, receipt in my hand. We walk up the place that sells Thai Food and I decide if that's what Spencer's having, then I'll have it too. I'm not hungry for anything specific.

We place our orders and wait patiently as they scoop noodles onto two plates. Once we've paid, we pick a table and sit down.

"The gift card is for Sam, right?"

"Yeah, it is," I confirm before taking my first bite of lunch.

"You don't have to say it's from both of us. I made her a sculpture this year so I didn't spend very much," he explains.

"Thanks. I'll be able to use the leftover money to get her something else to go with it."

"Like a bib and some Pepto-Bismol," Spencer teases.

I giggle and shake my head.

"That would offend her stomach of steel. There's no point wrapping this gift card up, so I need to tag on something large enough for Sam to unwrap."

"There was this little shop I passed around the corner from here that sells customizable gifts. They're having a sale on pillows. Maybe you'd like to check it out?"

"Well, sleeping is Sam's second favorite hobby after eating."

Spencer and I both laugh before continuing to consume our Pad Thai. We finish at about the same time and get up to toss the plates. He leads the way as we exit the food court and take the short walk over to the shop with the pillow sale.

I browse a couple of the aisles, curious if anything on the shelves will catch my eye as the perfect gift. There are mugs, t-shirts, hats, stationary, and even kitchenware. Nothing stands out as better than getting the pillow, so I peek over at the wall that shows a sample of how to customize one. They can scan any photo desired and include a personal message using special printing.

I slide my wallet outside of my pocket and peek inside as Spencer comes up beside me, he had been casually browsing a different aisle to keep himself entertained.

"Do you need to go back home first?"

"Nope. I carry my favorite picture of Sam and I in my wallet. And there's this poem I wrote last year that I folded up and shoved in the coin zipper. It should still be there."

I take the picture out and quickly flip my wallet over to the side with the coin zipper. To my relief, a lonely and tightly folded piece of scratch paper is sitting there unharmed.

"I haven't read it in a while. Do you mind?" I ask Spencer as I begin to unfold it.

"Take your time. Sometimes Christmas shopping imitates art. It can't be rushed."

I feel a smile curling onto my lips as a response to his big brother-y and artist-y comment.

"Thanks."

As I glance down at the now-flat paper, I take a deep breath, and begin reading the words to myself:

I'm glad there's you to smile at me

And brighten up my day,

To share my thoughts and understand

The things I do and say.

I'm glad there's you to laugh with me

At ordinary things,

To show me what is special,

In everything life brings.

I'm glad there's you to be with,.

And I think it's time you knew,

Just how happy you have made me

And how glad I am there's you!

Sam's already read it before too, but not in pillow form, and it will be the perfect lead into my letter.

"Okay Spencer, I'm ready to order," I declare confidently.

We approach the counter in the back of the store and a polite older lady greets us.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, I'd like to get a custom pillow. Will this photo and poem work?"

I hand them over to her and she examines them.

"These will do just fine. But I've got a few orders ahead of yours to complete as well. Could you stop by just before five to pick it up? That's closing time for me."

I look over at Spencer, knowing it's up to him whether we can come back or not.

"That's no problem, I can take a detour when I'm dropping off Socko's gift."

"I'll need to record your printed name and signature to assure nobody unauthorized walks off with it."

She slips over a piece of paper and Spencer swiftly writes the requested information. I pay her too as she opens the cash register.

"Alright, you're all set. Enjoy your holidays," the clerk adds cheerfully.

We return the sentiment and proceed to leave the shop and the mall. The drive back to Bushwell Plaza is twice as long in holiday traffic, giving me plenty of time to think about Sam and the letter. I feel as if the letter is slightly wimpy of me. Shouldn't I be able to have the conversation with her? The words sound better written because I've had the chance to edit them. If I were to confess to her through speech it would be stuttered, broken up, and come out all wrong. I don't want to take that risk.

Spencer waves a hand in front of my face, causing me to notice that we've parked already.

"You were pretty deep in thought there, kiddo. Anything you need to talk out with your big bro?"

I ponder the offer. Is there a way to get advice from Spencer without him finding out it's about Sam? I'm not sure I'm ready for him to know either.

"It's getting chilly out here. How about we go inside and you can decide over some hot cocoa?"

He accepts me opening my door as the answer and we go inside. As Spencer heads for the kitchen, I go upstairs to drop off my heavy coat and set the bags containing the gifts I bought by the wrapping paper on my bed.

When I return downstairs there's already two mugs set out on the counter and Spencer is removing two cocoa packets from the box that was sitting in our cupboard. I take a seat slightly to the left of our computer as Spencer turns to get water from the sink. He pours it into our hot pot then proceeds to plug it in. It takes less than a minute for the water to heat up before he unplugs the hot pot and pours it into the two mugs that the packets have already been emptied into.

When he sets mine in front of me it's accompanied by a stirring spoon.

"What's on your mind?"

Spencer pulls up a stool across from me and sends me a warm smile. I take a deep breath and choose my words carefully.

"Do you think it's less valuable to tell somebody how you feel in writing?"

"Depends, are you breaking up with someone? Wait...you haven't been dating anyone, have you?"

I feel my face heat up and I know I'm starting to blush.

"No, not yet."

I sigh and take a sip of my hot cocoa. Spencer does the same.

"A girl slipped me a note once. Then she whispered for me to pass it to the dude who sat in front of me."

I giggle unintentionally, knowing it can be a crushing experience.

"I'm not sure I can really tell them if I try to do it in person," I explain timidly.

"Did you already write down what you want to say?"

"Yeah, a few weeks ago."

I look down into my nearly empty mug, wondering if I feel like having more. No, I should wrap presents before either of my best friends decides to show up unannounced.

"There was a girl I had my eyes on in 11th grade. I started taping sketches to her locker because I was too nervous to start a conversation. We ended up going out for two weeks. Then I caught her be-smooching a lacrosse player. But I got her attention without having to do much speaking..."

"No offense, but you had terrible luck with girls. I think I'll take my chances with the letter. I'm more anxious than afraid," I confide.

"Alright, just make sure I meet them," Spencer insists as he grabs our empty mugs to set in the sink.

"Of course," I assure him while hiding my amusement since he knows Sam really well.

I get up from the stool I was sitting on and push it out of the way.

"I'm going to start wrapping and tagging presents. Thanks for the talk."

"No problem. I'll be heading over to Socko's as soon as I finish wrapping up everything I bought. Do you want me to leave some money for take out?"

"Sure," I reply before ascending the steps to my bedroom.

Once I open my door and plop on my bed, I immediately reach for some tape, scissors and gift wrap. Looking back on the gifts I selected for my family and friends, I conclude this year's Christmas shopping was a success. Especially what I got for Sam, she will love her gift, but a more important question plagues my mind. Does she love _me_?

* * *

I'm pacing in front of our Christmas tree nervously. Sam will be here any minute to exchange gifts. Freddie already stopped by earlier because he was leaving to British Columbia for the holiday. Who knew he had relatives that live in Canada? Apparently he was surprised too when Mrs. Benson told him they were going for a visit. Reminds me how glad I am we only go down to Yakima every other year.

Suddenly, I hear the front door handle rattle and Sam barges in with one hand behind her back. She's hiding my gift, I know it, and from the grin on her face I can tell she's impressed with herself for whatever it is she got me this year.

"Merry Christmas, kid!"

Sam moves her arm from behind her back and embraces me in a surprise hug. I can feel the material of the package that contains my gift as it and her hands rest against my back.

"Merry Christmas, Sam," I reply while she is pulling back, "you're sure in a good mood!"

"What about you? You're smiling like you've won the lottery and you haven't even opened the unbelievable gift your best friend got you!"

"Yeah I have. I opened my present from Freddie this morning," I tease.

Sam raises an eyebrow and I start to giggle.

"Kidding! Now let's get on with this. We'll see if your gift lives up to the hype."

I grab Sam's present from under the tree and hand it to her. She gives me mine and we both hurry over to the couch for the unwrapping.

Spencer comes out of his room as we are deciding who should go first.

"I just got a call from Socko. He cut his finger while carving a turkey and wants me to meet him at the hospital. Silly guy, always has been squeamish around blood. Anyway, will you be disappointed if dinner happens without me?"

I look up at Spencer and can tell he feels pretty guilty, but I shake my head.

"Go take care of your friend. We'll do our usual celebrating whenever you get back," I encourage, so he knows I'm really alright with it.

"Okay. Just don't open your presents from me until I'm back. I want to see the looks on your faces," he insists.

Sam and I both agree. Looking satisfied, Spencer grabs his winter coat and leaves.

"I want you to open yours first," Sam decides.

"As you wish."

I slowly pull back the wrapping paper and uncover a small box. Then I rip the box open and see an envelope peeking out.

"You put an envelope inside cardboard and wrapping paper?"

"Hey, couldn't have you guessing too quickly. There's only so many things that are flat enough to put in an envelope."

"Fair enough."

I use one hand to hold the box upside-down and the other to catch the envelope as I shake it out.

The expression on Sam's face is of pure anxiousness and I can tell if I don't open it quick enough she'd have no problem ripping it from my hands to do it herself.

At first, I tear at the seal eloquently, but its taking too long so I change my mind and rip it open forcefully. I give a small sigh of relief and slip two fingers inside to retrieve whatever's there.

It's tickets. Two of them. What are they for? I read aloud, "Girly Cow: The Movie".

"Oh my...Sam! You got me tickets to the movie premiere?!"

"Yep, and I didn't even use Rip Off Rodney this time. I fought and paid for them the legit way!"

"You're amazing. I never expected these. I can't wait to tell Wendy!"

I see Sam's smile fall into a frown.

"You're going to take Wendy to the premiere?"

"No, no! Of course not. I'm just excited to brag," I correct, worried about how torn Sam looked when asking that.

"Don't mess with Mama like that," Sam responds, showing signs of cheering up.

"I'd never pick Wendy, or anybody, over you. And to demolish any doubt, how about opening your present?"

"Here goes nothing."

Within no time, the pillow, gift card, and letter that I cleverly slipped into a regular greeting card are freed from their holiday wrappings and sitting in Sam's lap. The pillow is turned on the blank side so I reach out to flip it over. I give her a minute to look at it.

"Aw, it's that poem you wrote for me a while back. And my favorite picture of us! This is the best pillow ever!"

Sam sets it down to her left and picks up the gift card and greeting card, a bright smile plastered on her face. God, I wish I had my camera. Who knows the next time Sam will look this happy. And it hits me. How long could it take before she smiles at me again if the letter sprains our friendship for a while?

I see a change in light patterns as something waves in front of my face. It's Sam's hand.

"Should I have asked Santa for a space cadet?" Sam jokes.

I smile weakly.

"Nah, I've grown fond of gravity."

"Speaking of things we're fond of...a $50 gift card to Dr. Meaty's? My mouth's watering already. If I bring my pillow along I can live there for a whole week!"

"A week? On your appetite? I give you three days before you come crawling back to my fridge."

"One all-nighter. That's my final answer."

I notice Sam shifting the greeting card in her right hand. She's going to open it and see the letter. There she goes. Shoot.

"Um, I...bedroom...thing...be back."

I jump up from the couch and make a break for the stairs. I don't have to look back at Sam to know she's completely confused at my sudden outburst. I had to get out of there. Scribbled on top of the letter are the directions 'read when you're alone', so I hope she won't wait for me to return before noticing.

I shut the door to my bedroom, beginning to take deep breaths as I lean against it. Why couldn't I just sit there with Sam as she's reading my confession? What difference does it make if she's two feet away or two thousand? The words will reach her brain the same, and I'll inevitably experience the reaction that builds up from it.

When I start to take shallower breaths, a thumping noise echoes in my ears. I step away from the door and listen carefully. Is that my heartbeat? No, but it is racing. The sound is footsteps. They're getting closer and now I'm frozen where I stand.

Don't panic Carly Shay. You asked for this moment to happen. Maybe not so much for the feelings that produced the letter, but you didn't hang on to your darkest secret. She knows now and her actions are your fault.

My inner pep talk works, as I fail to notice anything is happening until a body is crashing against mine and I'm almost knocked to the floor, rescued by a soft landing on my bed. Our eyes meet. I'm below her, we're tangled up, but she's somehow shifting so her weight doesn't crush my body.

Sam tackled me. I was attacked by Sam. This has never happened before. She must be really angr...wait, is she...smirking?

"You're one crazy cupcake," Sam whispers.

"Enjoy being my icing?" I quip back, finally thinking straight again.

"Dunno, I could get used to it."

"Is that what you want," I question, needing to know in the midst of messing around that we're on the same page.

Her soft lips capture mine for a split second, then she's removing herself from above me and resting on her side in the previously unoccupied space of my bed. I move so we're facing each other and Sam's eying me affectionately.

"Was that the teaser trailer version?"

"Mmmhmm, you'll have to wait 'til New Year's for the full thing."

I'm tempted to pout, but I keep my composure. Despite our silliness, I believe I've just heard the first promise. Why push it?

"I'm sorry I couldn't say the same things I wrote down," I apologize.

Sam slides to the foot of the bed and sits up.

"Don't be. I've got something to frame for once. Now, how about we go downstairs and lie on your couch? We need to get through all of Girly Cow again before the premiere."

"Couldn't we watch it up here on my laptop? I'm comfortable."

Sam shakes her head and reaches over to tug on my arm to help me up.

"Nope, can't, we left our gifts scattered on the table."

"Spencer won't mind, you know that," I push, confused.

"We must follow the new pillow," she urges.

"What's wrong with the six pillows already up here?"

"My pillow has fluff," Sam exclaims.

I give in, not knowing how to argue against fluffy passion.

"Fine, we'll have the marathon downstairs. But my pillow has to have fluff too!"

"What pillow?"

"You."

"Can I challenge that?"

"Nope."


End file.
